Eastern Desperadoes
by Wakkomonkey9258
Summary: With the Legion having been destroyed, its two last leaders wander the land, looking to carve out their own empire in the ruined lands of America. Before they do that though, they'll have to wander and survive first.
1. Chapter 1

Eastern Desperadoes

**6 months after the destruction of the Legion. . . **

In a non-descript saloon housed within an equally non-descript town (Town being a relative term) two figures sat at a table specifically created for those trying to stay hidden in the crowd. The saloon was only partly full, the inhabitants being disfigured and disgusting tribals, garbed in baggy, dirtied, and torn clothing that barely served the purpose of covering the people wearing them. Most of them didn't spare a look beyond a single glance at the two men, before promptly ignoring them. The lights on the ceiling flickered, casting a black shadow on the interior of the saloon.

The two were completely different in physique and clothing. The one on the left of the table was wearing simple drifter's clothing, modified with some light armor pieces as extra protection, with the fur coat of a fox wrapped around his neck in the style of a cape. A short machete made of scrap metal hung off his waist, opposite a nine millimeter pistol that also hung off his waist. His sunglasses concealed his cold eyes from any of the spectators that dared look at the two men.

Meanwhile, the man on the right was clothed in heavy combat armor, while the armor on his right arm looked to have been taken from an advanced set of power armor. Around his face, were long strips of cloth that covered his gaunt and scarred face from view, save for his piercingly black eyes that were focused entirely on the man in front of him. On his back was a massive blade while two sawed off shotguns hung off the belt on his waist. The two were mostly silent as they stared down at the table where two shots of liquor sat.

Mr. Fox looked up and stared at his partner, "I hate this place," He muttered lowly, so that the locals didn't hear him and encite a drunken conflict, "It is very. . . disgusting," Pointedly, Mr. Fox twitched his head to the left as a tribal feasted on a rotting bloatfly.

Antonio rolled his sharp eyes at his companion, "Quit your whining," He rumbled, then pulled his bandages down to reveal gray lips. Without hesitation, he downed the full shot in front of him, "No one ever said this wandering buisness would be easy."

"Unfortunately," Mr. Fox sneered. He had always been a bit condescending of tribes outside of the Legion, and that hadn't changed even after its destruction, "Where do we go from here, then? We've been straying from town to town for six months now, barely scraping by."

Antonio reclined in his chair, "Well, according to our map, New Vegas is only three weeks travel from here. . ."

"No," Mr. Fox interrupted flatly.

Antonio arched a brow at his companion, "Any particular reason why?"

"The NCR is there. I thought our plan was to avoid the NCR forces."

"Plans change," Antonio growled, "Vegas is a place to restock and get information, it's worth the risk. Chances are the NCR, if they've even reached New Vegas yet, won't even recognize us, especially without our signature Legion armor."

Mr. Fox frowned cautiously and lightly tapped his machete on its handle thoughtfully, "It's risky."

"You know, that's the fifty seventh time you've said that in one month. You would be the worst general ever."

"Their is nothing wrong with being a little cautious, in lieu of pointless risk."

Antonio idly watched the drunken patrons stumble out of the saloon, "Then what do you suggest? Where else can we go other than drift from village to village looking for our place in this ruined lands of ours."

Fox smirked, "Zion."

Antonio gave the other man a flat stare, "From our current position, Zion is over two months journey from here, even if we follow the trade caravan routes."

Fox nodded, "That is true. But past Zion is the newly established New Canaan, where it is far safer than New Vegas."

"It's a long ways from here," Antonio said softly, "Two months of traveling could stretch our supplies very thin."

"Their should be small caravans along the roads we could trade with. How many caps do we have now?"

Antonio counted off his fingers for a moment, "three hundred and nineteen, enough to buy food so long as the prices aren't to bloated."

Suddenly they both went silent as a group of five tribals approached their table, bristling with sharp melee weapons, knives and spears along with a pistol or two. The lead one, clothed in torn mercenary clothes from days obviously long past, lead the pack wth his fire arm already drawn. Threateningly, the tribal leader laid his pistol down on the table in clear sight of both Antonio and Fox, a dark smile on his face, "I couldn't help but overhear ya," He croaked hoarsely, "Three hundred caps is a lot of money, and we need some food. So why don't you just hand it over why'll you've still got your heads on your shoulders."

Fox glared at the tribal coldly, "Go away profligate, we don't want any trouble with the likes of you." Antonio let out a bark of laughter as the tribal leader snarled in rage and raised his pistol at larger man's head. His cronies all drew their own weapons.

"Why do you even bother?" Antonio asked after his outburst of laughter, surprisingly calm despite having a gun pointed at his head, "These idiots probably didn't understand a word you just said." Then he lashed out with his arms and swatted the pistol from the tribal leader's shaky grip without even looking at the man.

The leader shrieked as Fox sighed with slight exasperation, "We should save our ammunition," He replied.

In response, Antonio struck out with his left fist with such speed that his arm was a mere blur. The blow connected with the leader's jaw and knocked him out almost immediately. The man collapsed against his fellows. Antonio looked back at his companion with a smirk in his eyes. In response, Fox scowled and then unsheathed his machete. Without further banter with his partner, the lightly armored man lunged from his seat and buried the scrap metal blade into the chest of one of the cronies. The man twitched and died as he sunk to the ground.

The other cronies howled angrily and threw themselves at Fox. Suddenly, Antonio was out of his chair and smashed his shoulder into two of the tribals, knocking them to the ground with bone shattering force, that left two to go after Fox. The smaller man ducked a swing from one of the tribal's knife and swung up with his machete, forcing his blade up into the man's neck and upper jaw. Fox kicked the man away and cracked the butt of his weapon down onto the remaining cronie's head. The tribal fell to one knee, which then allowed Fox to split his head in two.

Antonio finished his opponents just as easily. With a sneer, he brought his foot down on the one of his still writhing opponent's skull, fracturing it severely. The second tribal stumbled up dazedly, only to be skewered on the end of Antonio's massive blade. The fight lasted forty five seconds.

Slowly, Fox looked over at Antonio with a heated glare, "I could have handled that with far less violence," He growled while Antonio simply shrugged.

"Too late, now," He glanced at the traumatized looking bartender and the few other people still in the bar, "We'll be leaving now." The two of them left the bar quietly after that.

Soon, they had left the town far behind and were trudging along the road, when Antonio piped up, "So where are we going?"

"Zion," Fox said, his tone not allowing any argument.

Antonio crossed his arms, "Fine," He muttered, "Atleast we actually have a plan now."

"Yes," Fox agreed.

They kept on walking, leaving their personas, Vulpes and Lanius, farther back east as they trudged further west.


	2. Chapter 2

Fox

**Is mainly focused on Vulpes' inner struggle. This is a secondary story compared to all my other ones, so don't expect an update for some time. **

The beast was huge, massive even, with dark beady eyes that practically reeked of evil and ferocity. Leathery skin stretched across lean yet strong bones, a light shade of tan and light browns that camouflaged it against brown expanse of the barren wasteland. Its arms were almost as big as it was tall, and its hands ended in massive, curled claws that could that stetched almost as long as a human arm. Horns curved upward toward the heaven, glistening black, and seeming akin to the devil himself. Of course, given the creature's less than saintly appearance, perhaps that connection was not as far off as was comfortable.

Vulpes, otherwise known as his alias, Mr. Fox, stared at the beast with a mixture of awe and contempt. He viewed the abomination as a monster that defied the making of the gods, always had, just as he viewed all other mutations amongst the ravaged remnants of the United States. Looking at the evil creature, Vulpes felt the distinct urge to run in the opposite direction. Which, viewing the creature at such a distance, seemed like a totally understandable feeling. Instead, Vulpes cautiously reached down and brushed the handle of his machete, seeking some slight comfort in the coolness of the hilt. Considering the size of the Deathclaw, and the miniscule size of his machete in comparison, Vulpes felt no comfort to improve his bleak situation.

The fact that he was only about a dozen yards from the thing was even worse, and how he hadn't been sniffed out by the Deathclaw was a total mystery. The ditch was shallow, and not exactly well hidden and even if it had been, it wouldn't have mattered considering a Deathclaw's accute sense of smell. Vulpes scanned the horizon, noting the charred and skeletal trees, and the dust tainted wind that lightly blew across the wasteland. Mountains extended out of the horizon and obscured the land in the distance. Nothing in the enviroment to help him out of his plight, which left him in the tedious position of getting himself out of this situation.

Lanius, or Antonio as he was called now, had gone off to scout out the wilderness, which had left Vulpes alone at their measly camp with only small amounts of barely edible food. So he had gone off to hunt for some better sustenance, and was now only a dozen yards from a Deathclaw with barely any meaningful defenses. Where was that huge oaf when you needed him? Vulpes muttered a curse, and slowly began to shift backward, hoping to simply back off and avoid a confrontation that he would most likely lose. The Deathclaw growled and swung his head in Vulpes' direction, sniffing tentatively and stretching its long claws menacingly. Vulpes stopped, and didn't dare breathe. The demon growled lowly, trying to decide whether its senses were decieving it, or if their was such prey out there.

The Deathclaw snarled and strode forward, its feet imprinting the ground under its weight, eyes narrowed furiously on the horizon. Vulpes slowly gripped his machete's handle tightly, teeth mashing together. Perhaps, if the circumstamces were different and he were better equipped with something other than a machete made of scrap metal, he could have taken the beast, but due to his slight malnourishment over the single year of travel, and his lack of energy, Vulpes was less than prepared to properly fight a Deathclaw. His other hand crept to his pistol, allowing the metal to fill his grip. Just when the Deathclaw was almost on top of him, a shout echoed through the air.

On a neary ridge, Lanius suddenly appeared, two sawed off shotguns aimed directly at the abomination, and his dark eyes alight with fury. The Deathclaws promptly ignored his senses and focused on the more apparent prey, a roar leaving its jaws and it sprung into a fast sprint. Lanius faced down the beast unflinchingly and fired both his shotguns, each barrel booming with holy fire against the demon. The Deathclaw stumbled as buckshot smashed against its chest and stomach, and it screeched with pain. But it didn't stop, and kept on charging at Lanius, bellowing in rage and tail swinging from side to side wildly. Lanius holstered his shotguns and brought out his Blade of the East, now rusted and slightly dull with age, then waited. The demon closed the distance in only a few seconds and jumped up on its strong legs, arms swinging up to tear out the guts of its prey.

Lanius roared and jumped from the ridge, thrusting out his blade in front of him. To Vulpes, it looked as if Satan and God were charging at each other like the armageddon was happening all over again. Vulpes charged toward the back of the demon, machete held above his head and his pistol lined up on the back of the creature's head. Bullets zoomed toward its target and hit the Deathclaw in the shoulder blade, distracting it for the necessary seconds that Lanius needed.

Lanius smashed into the Deathclaw, but instead of the beast's claws tearing the former Legate to pieces, Lanius' blade cut right through the beast's chest, breaking out of its back through its spine. The Deathclaw screamed and the two tumbled to the ground, Lanius grunting and the demon roaring in utter pain as the blade toar at its flesh. Vulpes caught up to the two, and then shot the demon seven times in the face. The creature didn't move after that.

Lanius stood and wearily eyed the dead creature, and then sent a grunted thanks to Vulpes. He violently jerked his blade from the corpse, and sheathed it onto his back. He rolled his shoulders, and cracked his neck. The bandages on his ruined face had come slightly loose, revealing pallid cheeks and grey lips. His right arm was covered in armor taken from an adandoned piece of NCR power armor, and the rest of his armor was made up of his old Legate armor. Not that it mattered anymore with the Legion gone.

One year of travel had lessened the bulk of the Legate, mainly from a lack of food and nutrition. He was still intimidating, and still over six feet tall but some of his muscles had been lessened and Vulpes was accutely aware of just how tired the Legate became these days. Over forty years old, and tired from a life of warfare and betrayal, the Legate was exhausted with existence, but still he continued to fight for the belief that he could still scratch out a living for himself and his partner. Vulpes had seen himself degenerate as well, but he had always been lean anyway, so the change wasn't that noticeable.

But their dream of an empire had not come to pass, and now, with the advance of the NCR west once again, they had been forced to abandon Nevada and run further east. Now, over a year of fighting and running and slowly losing hope, Vulpes had long since lost direction of just where they were. They were lost now, purely drifters and nothing else. Vulpes felt despair, but swiftly pushed it away and looked over at his fellow drifter. Lanius stared back blankly, unsure of what to say. Over the year of travel had basically desintigrated any hint of animosity between the two, leaving them in the zone between mutual allies and close brothers in arms. Not friends, Vulpes wasn't sure they could ever be friends like some travelers.

They stood there for several awkward moments, staring at anything except each other. "Thanks for helping," Lanius muttered, "Your aim's gotten better."

"Thanks," Vulpes muttered back, and he idly stared back down at the corpse, which was now surrounded by flies, "Should we skin it and eat the meat?"

"Not unless you want to be puking up whatever's left in your stomach," Lanius ignored the strange look Vulpes sent his way, "It's a long story."

"No doubt," Vulpes replied, then looked out at the dimming horizon, "It's getting dark, should we head back to camp and rest the night?"

"That would be wise," And with those simplistic words, the two of them began to trudge through the sparsely populated wasteland. Where they were could not be identified just by the surrounding area, not that Vulpes had ever been this far east to recognize the countryside anyway. Lanius didn't seem to care where they were, just that they were as far away from the NCR as physically possible.

Vulpes suddenly became aware of just how hot it really was, with the sun beating down mercilessly with no remorse in sight. Shade was not a commodity that could be commonly found in the desolation surrounding the two men, nor was their any kind of chilly breeze that came around every once and a while, nothing but the heat and the craggly rocks that pressed against Vulpes' thin shoes and bruised the soles of his feet. Sweat began to drench his soiled armor, wetting it and extending a foul smell to the fox like man's nostrils. When was the last time the two of them had had a decent shower? At this point Vulpes couldn't even remember anything past a week ago. Their were little luxuries out in the lonliness of Mother Earth, and such things as waterfalls and proper cleaning utilities were not something to be easily found. A drop of sweat fell into his eye, and Vulpes quickly made to brush it away.

His legs ached, and his head hurt. His throat may as well be a desert, and his eyes stung with exhaustion and pain. Never before had Vulpes undergone such a massive journey, one that spanned an unknowable amount of time without the Legion to back him up with fresh supplies and caches. It was only him and Lanius, out in the world with nothing but the sparse little items at their camp and the clothes and weapons on their backs. He felt dirty and unclean, like some petty tribals out in the wastes who worshipped like some diseased dogs. Vulpes looked down and saw that his usually fit light armor that suited his fighting style was hanging off his thin body somewhat. The chest plate was dented and caved in, ruined to the point of almost complete worthlessness. The shoulder pauldrons were a crumpled mess, like a mass of crinkled tin foil, and bearing the marks of dozens of weapons that had marked them. His knee guards were dented with bullet holes and chew marks from where beasts had bitten and slashed at him. His shoes had ducktape wrapped around them, in a crude attempt to keep the bottom fabric attached to the rest of the shoe. By Mars, he was worse off than he had presumed.

He remembered back when the Legion had still been going fresh and strong, before it had met that _accursed _woman, when Vulpes had been dressed in the finest armor, revered and envied by those beneath them. Back when he had actually mattered, when he had been important to the people around him. Back when he had been a leader and a Frumentarii, before he ever met her, and before he ever foolishly fell for her to. the fox like man cursed himself for bringing her up in his mind as images of her red hair and pretty face overloaded his brain instantly, breaking his hatred for her as if it were only made of transluscent water. His shoulders sagged in defeat as his denials were utterly knocked over as easily as he could conjure them up. His arguments for hating her were destroyed and reduced to barely recognizable ashes, just like the fallen banner of the Legion. The flag that _she _had helped burn.

Lanius' heavy paw of a hand clamped down on his shoulder, stopping the former spy in his tracks. Vulpes snapped back to reality and sent a practiced glare at the former Legate, "Why are we stopping here Legate, I thought we were going to camp."

"We're already here." Vulpes turned his head and saw that it was true. A small tent was laid under a leaning, ashen colored tree, its branches falling despondently toward the ground, a symbol of lost hope and depression. It reflected their situation quite nicely. A small pile of wood where a fire had once roared was now just a few burnt sticks, and two cans of discarded beans were mixed into the pile. Next to the tent, a footlocker ladden with whatever ammo and weapons they had left were stockpiled, while the food and water was stored in a sack housed within the tent. It had a spartan nature about it, and the very sight of the drab camp made Vulpes even more sullen than he already was. Not that he was complaining for the bit of shelter that the two of them could call home, but even the Legion had had camps more homey than the mess before him. Lanius pushed past him and sat himself against the tree, eyes boring into Vulpes'. "You were thinking quite heavily," He grunted with some small trace of exhaustion in his voice, "About?"

"It's nothing to concern yourself with," Vulpes quipped automatically, and then winced slightly. Some things never changed it seemed.

"On the contrary, it does concern me. While I am more than happy to leave the thoughtfulness to you, I do not need you distracted by irrelevant thoughts in the heat of battle. Nor do I want you to start spiraling into depression because of your lengthy contemplation."

"I highly doubt I will become depressed because of some logical thought. By that logic you should be the happiest man in the United States, Lanius. After all, you don't seem to devote any thought beyond what the next fight will be," Vulpes almost smirked as Lanius glared heatedly him for the highly overused jab at his intelligence.

It looked as if the former Legate was prepared to throw an insult right back at him, but at the last moment seemed to brush the anger away as if it had never been there, "Don't attempt to act as if you can simply wave your hand and run your mouth, then expect me to simply ignore your problems, Vulpes. I have noticed that as we continue to wander, your stature has become more slumped, and your expression progressively darker. You are already being afflicted by depression, Vulpes, you just won't admit it."

"You are mistaken," Vulpes replied simply.

"Oh? I think not. I am not blind, Vulpes, I have seen hundreds of men succumb to weariness and overthought, I myself feel the pains of age and war coursing through me even as we speak. You are no special case, Vulpes. Sometimes you think far to much for your own good."

"Perhaps one such as you would view such a thing as thought as a problem, but I do not see the inate problem with seeing things through. You may have been a Legate, but you are no renown psychologist, accept that you are mistaken."

"Not until you accept your own problems. You always did have a problem with acknowledging things about yourself that are flawed. Accept your imperfections and get over this little time of sadness you seem to be having."

"Accept your own first," Vulpes growled angrily, storming over to the former Legate, "You're stubborn, pig headed, thoughtless, and utterly irreverent of any sort of rules or regulations."

"And you are to thoughtful, callous, and cautious," Lanius shot back, "To weak to make the big decisions."

"Fool," Vulpes snarled, then stormed away from the former Legate with a fuming, dark expression. He gripped his machete tightly with rage and stalked a few paces before a hand snagged his shoulder.

"Do not storm away," Lanius snarled, "I will not allow you to degenerate as you are. I will not."

"Let go of me," Vulpes hissed, and unsheathed his machete slightly as a threat, "I will not discuss this with you of all people, Lanius."

"You say that as if you have a choice. I'm the only person here, just who are you planning to talk to about your little problem?"

"Their is nothing to speak about!" The fox like man barked at the former Legate.

"It's that damnable woman isn't it?" Lanius accused, "That traitor, the courier. You still hold feelings for her don't you?"

Vulpes tore loose and fully pulled out his machete and pointed it carefully at the Legate. Lanius narrowed his eyes with rage, and he suddenly lashed out like a viper. He caught the former spy's wrist and twisted, all the while pulling out his double barrled shotgun and pointing it directly into Vulpes' face. "You always said I focused to much on fighting," He hissed angrily. Vulpes glared heatedly at the larger man, jaw twitching with rage, "But you always were to cautious in a fight, to easy to distract, and to easy to pull of balance."

A fist smashed into Lanius' jaw, making his head reel back and a cry of surprise leave his mouth. Vulpes wrenched free and smashed the handle of his blade into the former Legate's head with as much force as possible. Lanius retaliated by backhanding the former Frumentarii across the face, and the leaner man staggered back under the monstrous blow, massive pain pumping through his entire head. Lanius punched his fist twice, but even in his slightly dazed state Vulpes could still dodge, and both of the punches missed, and he swiftly counterattacked with a kick to the chest. Lanius didn't even flinch and punched the former spy in the face.

The fist was, unfortunately, the fist contained in his scavenged power armor, and the ball of metal knocked Vulpes completely onto his back. His machete was knocked away from him and Lanius placed his foot victoriously on Vulpes' chest. The fox like man glared up at the victor of their spat. "Are you done with your temper tantrum?" Lanius asked mockingly and relinquished his boot. Vulpes didn't respond and instead propped himself up on his forearms, still glaring at the man's back. Lanius sat in front of the fire and rested his head on his palm, "Fights won't help us in our ventures, Vulpes, perhaps we could have a civil conversation over this?"

Dourly, Vulpes stood and sat across from Lanius, subconsciously rubbing at the forming bruise on his cheek right under his eye. He scowled thunderously when he saw Lanius' bandages shift where his mouth was, a sign that the pompous ass was smirking. Fumingly, Vulpes glared at the man and pointed at the former Legate, "You are not helping, Lanius. Considering you seem to be incapable of either empathy or understanding, its no wonder we're fighting."

"I don't deny that," Lanius muttered, "Still though, you aren't very empathetic either. You're colder than a nuclear winter."

"I don't deny that either," Vulpes replied, "But atleast I can actually interact with people correctly."

"I prefer killing people in various ways," Lanius remarked with some amusement, "That's how I interact. Speaking of interaction, let's talk about _that _woman."

Vulpes instinctively tensed up, his eyes narrowing into angry slits. Lanius didn't flinch and held his gaze steadily, his eyes determined. He was walking on thin ice and he knew it, but the former Legate did not back down from the fox like man. Finally, Vulpes simply deflated and weakly said, "Their is nothing to talk about."

He saw Lanius smirk again under his bandages, but for once it was not mocking, "Just like old times, hmm?" He chuckled, even as his eyes spoke of sadness and loss, "Still though, you cannot hope to avoid this. And judging from your hesitance, I can only assume she is the problem."

"You know I hate talking about her, Lanius. She brings up unwanted feelings."

"Which is why we should air it now," Lanius insisted, "Better we talk about it now before it festers."

Vulpes grunted noncommitedly. The concept of airing his feelings to a brutal mass murderer like Antonio Lanius seemed about as ridiculous as a Deathclaw suddenly becoming their friend. Then again, their was a modicum of wisdom in Lanius' words, as ridiculous as they sounded. Besides, what was the worse that could happen? He and Lanius were no longer part of the Legion, and so technically the rules no longer applied to them. Their was no rule against falling for a profligate anymore, and their was no Caesar for Lanius to report to. So what was the harm? Other than suffering utter humiliation by fully admitting his feelings. Lanius had already known of his feelings almost as soon as they had appeared, but Vulpes had been unable to overcome his insurmountable pride and admit it. But with the Legion gone, their was no reason _not _to talk about it.

"Fine," Vulpes grunted, "But let's keep it vague and couth."

"Do you still love her?"

"I think so."

Lanius blinked rapidly, then shrugged callously, "Eh, alright. Do you still think of her in a positive light?"

"Yes."

"Oh. . . okay."

Vulpes blinked, "That's it?"

Lanius shrugged his broad shoulders again, "Yeah, what, did you expect me to bug you for an hour so we could have a heart-to-heart? No, unless you have something more to say than feel free to say it, otherwise, I've gotten all the information I need."

Their was a leading tone in the former Legate's voice that said that he didn't want the conversation to end as abruptly as he was trying to make Vulpes believe. Out of habit, Vulpes looked at Lanius wearily and found his thoughts drawn to the fiery red of her hair, and the contrasting paleness of her face, "She was very beautiful." He remarked thoughtlessly, then winced, expecting Lanius to toss an insult at him any moment.

Instead, the decidedly unpredictable Legate smirked at Vulpes and nodded in agreement, "Indeed, Vulpes. A warrior-goddess I believed I described her as."

Vulpes, momentarily stunned, took a moment to nod and continue thinking about her. A pebble hit him in the forehead, and he scowled at Lanius, who seemed to almost smile back at him, "No thinking, Vulpes. Don't tell me you forgot our fight already."

"It's slightly difficult considering the right side of my face is throbbing," The former spy replied sourly.

Lanius responded with a belly laugh that could have shaken the mountains. And Vulpes almost chuckled along with him.

000

"Washington D.C?" Vulpes cried out in disbelief as he stared at the almost unintelligible sign.

Lanius pinched the bridge of his nose, looking incredibly frustrated by this new information, "It'd be just our luck wouldn't it? That we would have traveled so far east that we end up on the east coast."

Vulpes looked out onto the horizon and saw the slight towers of what he could only assume was the capital city, and suddenly felt incredibly light headed. Of course they would end up in Washington D.C after just a year of traveling. It wasn't that he knew anything about the place, and he didn't truly have anything against the stretch of land, but the fact that they were now backed up on the coast with the NCR on their backs was not something he was particularly happy about.

They had been scaling the mountain they were currently sight seeing on for about two days via an ancient trail that circled the mountain. It had seemed to be the only way around the massive mountain range that had barred their way forward. When they had finally reached the top they had directly run into a sign that could still be read as:

Welcome to D.C!

That exclamation only made Vulpes groan in disbelief. Lanius passed the sign and looked over the other side of the mountain down toward the ground. "This is ridiculous," He growled, "First we're in Washington D.C and now we can't even climb down this blasted mountain." He scooped up a stone and tossed it over the side, listening to the echoing thumps as it clattered down to the ground.

"So what are exactly are we supposed to do Lanius? Climb down the mountain?"

Lanius looked back at Vulpes with a look in his eyes that filled Vulpes with utter dread, "I think that's exactly what we have to do, unfortunately. Trust me, I do not enjoy this fact anymore than you, but I fear it is the only way."

Vulpes came over to where Lanius stood and looked over the edge, judging the steep drop from his current height. He quickly looked away, "I hope you realize how insane that is."

"Come now Vulpes. Stop being so cautious and simply agree that I'm right."

Vulpes' shoulders slumped in defeat. He had never prefered heights even after Legionary training, but this was just ridiculous. A several hundred foot drop was not something he usually looked forward to. Still though, perhaps the former Legate was right for once. Being cautious could only get so far, and their was no apparent alternative, maybe it was time to simply throw himself directly at the problem instead of looking for a way around. He sighed, "Fine."

Lanius jumped, startled, "What?"

"I said fine. If their's no way around, then I agree that we can only go around."

The bigger man blinked rapidly, "Wait, that's it? No argument, no clever insults to my intellgence?"

"Let's just get this over with," Vulpes growled as he looked back down the mountain and lowered himself into a squat.

"Maybe you're not a lost cause after all," Lanius mumurred as he crouched next to him.

"I hate you," Vulpes hissed as he began to slip his foot down onto a decent foothold. Lanius helped him into position by holding his hand while the former spy settled himself.

"Well," Lanius growled back, "Your attitude hasn't changed at all."

"I hate you so much." Vulpes got into position and was able to release Lanius' hands and grab a chunk of rock. Slowly, he began to climb down the mountain, ignoring the blatant feeling of terror and fear curdling in his gut. Vulpes wasn't usually one to feel fear in such a degree, but given the situation he supposed it was justified. Lanius followed quickly after him, scaling down the cliff at a slow but steady pace.

Vulpes felt sweat begin to slowly drip down his forehead from exertion, his limbs shaking as he continued to climb down. His hand came down onto a small clump of rock, which immediately broke off and fell toward the ground. Vulpes cursed angrily and vaguely reached for another hand hold, attempting to keep his limbs rooted to the mountains. More stones fell from above, and Vulpes instinctively looked up to see Lanius struggling, one of his legs slightly dangling and the former Legate's eyes narrowed as he looked over his shoulder at the ground. His loose leg found a crevice, and he shoved his foot into it, lowering himself about another foot, keeping his hands secured at all times. Vulpes continued moving again, managing to avoid any sort of loose rocks as he continued toward the ground.

Lanius let out a long string of muttered curses as the rocks near him crumbled into pebbles. He searched with his hand, found a handhold, and slowly lowered himself down farther. Their was a massive crumbling sound, and Lanius' body seized up as he felt the rocks in his palm suddenly desintigrate mid move, and his unhooked foot flailed wildly, pulling the former Legate off balance, and with a shout of rage and surprise, Lanius fell backward and soared down to the ground, arms thrown up in a vain attempt to ensnare a solid rock and save himself. Instead, he got the much more solid Vulpes, who had swung out and grabbed his comrade's palm with a grunt of effort as Lanius' massive body weight tried to drag him down. He heaved back, keeping the former Legate suspended, and his eyes narrowed as his other hand tightly gripped at the mountain, rocks splintering into his palm. Lanius roared in rage, and his legs kicked valiantly toward the moutain, as if attempting to get revenge. Vulpes gasped as his arm stretched to almost painful limits, and black spots began to fleck into his eyes. "Stop struggling," He hissed angrily.

Lanius stilled somewhat, panting breathlessly. He looked up at his savior, and Vulpes saw large amounts of gratitude that were usually concealed behind his black eyes. Vulpes realized that if he were to loosen his grip at all, that Lanius would fall to his death. Lanius seemed to realize that to, and the former spy thought he saw desperation flicker across the former Legate's eyes, and Vulpes gulped, his throat suddenly more parched than it had been several minutes ago, "I guess this is where I say I've always loved you," Lanius croaked meekly. Vulpes scoffed weakly, and the former Legate continued, "But I don't, I really, really, don't!"

"Shut up." Vulpes gathered the last remnants of his strength and swung Lanius straight toward the cliff side. Lanius almost smashed directly into the mountain, but he held out his free hand, and braced himself against the rock. He grabbed the nearest jutting rock and safely landed his feet onto two more rocks. Vulpes let go, allowing his whole arm to hang limply and simply stayed in that position for several moments, the two of them simply breathing in and out as adrenaline faded and utter exhaustion set in. Lanius' chest heaved uproariously, and his heavy breaths echoed out like a Yao Guai's roar. Vulpes was to tired to do anything other than slowly pant, feeling everything associated with his arm and torso ache relentlessly.

"Thanks," Lanius called up to him after he recovered enough to speak clearly.

"Don't. . . don't mention it."

Vulpes looked down at the former Legate, and saw that the man was staring up at him with genuine fear, a fact that made Vulpes' tired brain almost completely melt down. He nodded almost imperceptilbly, and slowly began to climb again, ignoring the look Lanius sent him. Tediously, the two continued to scale the cliff, facing no more large issues. Rocks continued to crumble and the cliff remained unstable, but Lanius managed to keep his grip on the mountain while Vulpes managed to avoid completely collapsing until his feet lightly touched the ground. As soon as he completely let go, Vulpes teetered for a moment before totally losing his balance and fell to the ground with a tired grunt. Lanius managed to convey his fatigue with slightly more finesse, falling to one knee and bowing his head, breath coming out in short gasps. His bandages were soiled with sweat, and his unarmored palm was a torn ruin, with blood leaking from multiple cuts.

Vulpes felt blood crawl down his own palm into the sand under him. He turned to Lanius, who sent him his own look back at the former spy, and seemed to wince at the stunningly hateful look that Vulpes threw at him, "I hate you so much."


	3. Chapter 3

The Eastern Monster

**A relatively early update for a so-called "secondary story." Enjoy!**

The sun was but a dull heat across his back as an ever present irritation to the former Legate as he trudged along the ruined and cracked road right next to his eternal comrade, Vulpes. For what seemed to be the thousandth time, Lanius scanned his smoldering surroundings for anything of particular interest or that posed any kind of actual threat. Instead, what he found were tall jagged mountains that seemed to stretch up toward the sky and dipping plains of vast and sandy plains that appeared to stretch into the horizon. Winds pummeled sand about easily, blowing them into immense sand dunes that dotted the landscape, stretching upward dozens of feet. The sky was utterly uninteresting, with not a distinguishing feature in it, only a dim, blank canvas.

The former Legate sighed boredly and idly looked down at his only uncovered hand, scanning his dirt encrusted finger nails with a spiritless look, desperately attempting to find anything to stimulate his mind and take away the mindless miles of walking ahead of him. His bandages chafed endlessly at his permanently scarred skin, brushing away what little bits of dried up and wasted away pieces of skin he had left. Sweat had long since ruined them, wetting them to the point where even the mildest wind could tear them away from his face with no effort at all. Over the long months, he had lost the desire to purposefully seek out new pieces of gauze or bandages to cover up his face, not that his complexion really bothered him anymore.

Over a dozen years after his disfigurement, he had lost any care for his looks, not that he had ever had even the slightest inclination to keep his looks up to par in the first place. War did not require looks, only the manpower and the will to kill those that befit the title of enemy. All that was needed was the ugly feeling of hatred in the beating heart, anything beyond that was merely peripheral. Lanius breathed deeply, remembering the feeling of his famous blade in his hand as he slaughtered dozens of his enemies before him without mercy, because of his skill and because of his internal rage. He was the opposite of the cold and calculating Vulpes who relied mainly on logic in place of instinct. Perhaps, provided the correct circumstamces, that would be more useful than hot blooded rage, but Lanius was not someone to rely on his logic mainly, he left that to Vulpes. He was the warrior, the killer, the murderer, he was not a thinking man.

Strategy he was proficient in to a point, and he knew when to concede defeat and when to push the attack. But outside of combat, his temper and emotions tended to override his cognitive functions more often than not. He knew Vulpes tended to subconscously react with condescension toward Lanius when he fell more toward his more emotional side, and partly he couldn't blame the fox like man. Years of inner cooling within Vulpes had left him dull to emotion, for the most part, and he could not properly understand the value of emotion when it came to both combat and political intimidation. Then again, Lanius considered to himself with a flicker of emotion, when the former Chief Spy had met that courier woman, that had elicited a reaction that almost completely stunned Lanius into a coma. The fool had fallen in love with a profligate, and when Lanius had found out, he had been surprised at Vulpes' sudden shift into the zone of irrationality.

The ridiculousness of it had made him laugh several times as he reflected on it, and that hadn't changed as the memories of their constant arguments drew out a brief laugh from him. Vulpes seemed to be drawn out of his own prolonged reflection, his shoulders tensing and his gaze turning on him with irritation in his dull eyes. Lanius smirked sheepishly at his comrade and shrugged helplessly, which only seemed to inflame Vulpes as he flatly rolled his eyes and looked up at the sky with his lips drawn into what seemed to be a permanent frown of displeasure. Lanius looked a way off to the side of the road down into another valley that seemed to dip for atleast a mile before it reached the bottom, where horrors unfathomable were most likely to live. The former Legate suddenly felt incredibly uncomfortable next to his deadly silent companion, the muteness between them deafening and seemingly unbreakable. Another wind struck him directly in the face, grating sand directly into his bloodshot eyes, irritating them and forcing a cough of discomfort to come from his dry lips.

Vulpes looked back over at him and shifted in discomfort, coughing lightly under his breath. The two of them stopped for a long moment, both of them staring at each other uneasily, expecting the other to say something to break the thick tension between them. Vulpes opened his mouth, then closed it and shifted his jaw for several seconds before shaking his head and continuing to walk without a word. Lanius winced at the mockable attempt at speech on Vulpes' part, but raised no objections to it. By Mars, was he really as bad at social conversation outside of arguments with Vulpes as the fox like man claimed? Granted, he had never been one for conversation in general. His whole life had been spent as a general meant to give orders, not to engage in idle chatter, especially with one who could possibly be his rival.

_Why is it that sometimes I can't help but hate my life? _

He looked around the incredibly dry landscape and pinched the bridge of his nose with tight fingers and sighed, remembering just why he tended to hate his life more often than he enjoyed it. It had been a year since he had actually managed to command competent and professional tropps, and that usual brand of leadership was now gone and scratched away, removing what little glow in his life he possessed. . .

_FULL STOP! _Lanius shook his head fervently, a sneer alighting his face as he forced out that thought as soon as he realized how quickly it was forming. No way was he about to give in to his own misery and allow his will to be eroded away by the useless thoughts of a weak man. He was a man, nigh a monster, of perseverence and strength, and the day he was defeated would be at the hand of another, not his own mind. Angrily, he cursed himself for his slip up and attempted to shut out his own thoughts as he searched for a way to distract himself.

"You seem angry," Vulpes noted, looking both confused and amused at the same time, "I would suggest you keep your hands away from me or your weapons."

"Funny," Lanius deadpanned, "I don't suppose you have any more warnings for me, like don't run with scissors?"

"I was going to say never run with a machete, or in your case, bumper sword, but I suppose the lesson's the same."

"Fine, then you watch where you stick that pistol of yours."

Vulpes wrestled out his pistol and pulled the trigger. Their was no boom as Lanius expected, instead only a measly click, "I don't have any ammo left."

Lanius frowned, "Great, that leaves us with your machete. I don't suppose you plan on walking to your target."

"Perhaps a light jog would be more preferable."

"Yes, and _I_ would prefer if you didn't trip and spear your eye through."

Vulpes shrugged and continued walking on the road, his now tanned skin glistening brightly in the sun. As Lanius continued to walk behind him, he had to laugh at just how much more different he looked after over a year of travel. The former Legate could remember back when Vulpes had been paler than any individual he had ever met, back when he appeared to be ghostish in appearance. "Please stop admiring the contours of my back," Vulpes called back to him, a small smirk on his face.

Lanius felt his jaw drop and then closed it with a furious click, eyes narrowing angrily, "Are you insinuating that I am gay?"

Vulpes sighed, a look of false innocence pasted on his face, "Please Legate, I am not one to indulge in such childish insults, especially ones related to your rather. . . questionable sexuality."

"I am not gay!"

"Bisexual?"

Lanius swatted at the small man, but Vulpes expected it and swiftly dodged under his large hand, a dark chuckle leaving his lips as the Monster of the East fumed angrily, seeming to switch between letting the insult go unpunished or bashing the fox like man's head in. "You truly are as petty as you seem, Vulpes," Lanius growled, crossing his arms.

Now, now, Lanius," Vulpes assuaged, "Get a sense of humor, it was only a joke."

"Vulpes, I have a far better appreciation for jokes than you could ever have in seven lifetimes."

The former Chief Spy almost burst out laughing at the man declaration, "The Monster of the East has a sense of humor? I believe Mars is shining his rays upon you, Lanius."

Lanius rolled his eyes and reached over to Vulpes, bluntly flicking the man inbetween the eyes. The thinner man cried out in surprise while the Monster of the East continued to walk, unperturbed, "It figures you would gain a sense of humor after you've lost everything in your life."

"Walking the wastes tends to imbue one with a rather cynical disposition," Vulpes groaned, gripping his swelling nose.

"Which equates to a sense of humor?"

"In a Post-Apocalyptic world it does, apparently."

"You're insane," Lanius stated flatly.

"Coming from a butcher such as you, that insult doesn't carry much in the way of merit," Vulpes responded curtly.

Lanius cocked his head slightly to the right, and nodded appreciatively, looking almost respectful, "Well then Vulpes, I see you're getting better at this whole Arguments/Retort buisness."

"Five years of interacting with you tends to do that to a man."

"I only wish to keep your wits as sharp as your machete, Vulpes," Lanius commented, "And I do believe I succeeded."

"You'll forgive me for thinking you're an unadaulterated fool for thinking that."

"Nope," Lanius replied, then once again flicked Vulpes directly in the face.

"Ow," Vulpes growled angrily, "You damn bastard."

"I'm glad to see your feelings toward me haven't changed."

"How would my. . ."

The two of them stopped suddenly, suddenly realizing just what had been occuring for the past several minutes. Almost without even realizing it, the two of them had sunk into a casual converstion as if their had never been any years of animosity before hand between them, like two friends strutting down into the sunset. The tension that had seemed to be a barrier between them had dissolved as if it were merely water, leaving only open words and looks. Vulpes stared at him momentarily, his eyes shrouded with confusion and surprise. Lanius stared back, head cocked slightly, his expression contemplative, "Did that really just happen?" He asked tentatively.

"Yes," Vulpes confirmed slowly, apparently mulling it over as well, "No arguments or disagreements, just simple banter."

"That's a first," Lanius admitted, "It's been a long time since I've had a conversation with another person as if they were a valued indiviadual."

The former Chief Spy arched a brow questioningly, "You value me as an individual?"

"Don't let your ego swell up to the size of the moon, I'd rather walk with someone I trust than with no one at all."

"Fair enough."

Silence for a beat, then Lanius piped up, "This does not mean I want to hear your pointless gossip, Vulpes."

Another beat of silence on the Frumentarii's part, until Vulpes replied with his ever so common comeback, "I hate you."

000

If Megaton was the pinnacle of civilization in the self proclaimed Capital Wasteland then Lanius wasn't sure that he even wanted to live his life anymore. The houses were decripit and run down, created from rusted and ancient metal welded haphazardly together into the vague form of a shelter. The platforms connecting the upper levels were rickety and seemed ready to collapse any second, with its constant squeaking and groaning as the towns folk walked about on their daily chores. The bars upholding them appeared to be made of old toilet pipe, put in at almost random intervals along the upper platforms. The villagers were disgusting and gaunt, clothed in barely suitable pre-war clothing and shoddy undergarments. They were all weak and sickly looking, with dirt and mud seeming to form a permanent layer on their skin, mingled with constant sheets of sweat and bodily oil. Lanius wrinkled his nose at the smell and slowly began to take a step backward toward the gate, ready to make his escape and find another place for refuge before he dared set another foot into the town. He was swiftly stopped by Vulpes, who snagged his wrist and dragged him forward tenaciously. The former Legate put up no resistance, his shoulders slumping with his hopes, "Do we truly have to do this?"

Vulpes nodded determedly, "It's the only place that hasn't attacked us on sight, and besides, we need to see if we can maybe get some decent food and water."

Lanius doubted they would find anything of even relative worth in this ramshackle town, but he chose to relent for once and started off at a pace that suited Vulpes' more cautious steps, "If I catch anything it's your fault."

"You're far to paranoid for your good," Vulpes growled lowly as they passed a group of villagers, who immediately eyed them with a look akin to a desperate and hungry dog, "I highly doubt this town is unsanitary enough that they have some sort of disease in the air or on themselves."

Lanius sniffed and immediately recoiled in disgust at the foil smell that afflicted his nostrils, "Are you sure about that?"

"You're ridiculous."

The two suddenly stopped and their eyes almost bugged out of their head in shock. Lanius had to keep himself from furiously running away outside the gate, or kill everyone near the object. Vulpes raised his hands, eyeing the object before them with anxiety, "Er, Lanius?" He asked, fidgeting nervously, "Is that. . . a nuclear bomb?"

"An atomic bomb actually," A voice corrected and the two turned around to see a tall man walking down the slope, dressed up as an old school cowboy with a chinese assault rifle strapped to his back, "Not that it makes much of a difference."

"Uh," Lanius could not believe just how callous this man could be when they were standing right next to a primed atomic bomb, "Is their a particular reason why your town is centered around a huge bomb, Mr. . ."

"Simms, Lucas Simms, town sheriff. And not to worry boys, that bomb was deactivated years ago by the Lone Wanderer, their's no threat from it now."

Lanius and Vulpes both let out a collective sigh of relief, but still eyed the bomb with some weariness, "That solves that problem I suppose," Vulpes said curtly, "And since we're talking to the town sheriff, is their any work to be found in this town?"

Lucas made a sound of amusement, that grated on Lanius' nerve, "So, you two actually want to do something for this town?" He scanned the two of them, as if analyzing the odds of their survival, "Well, since you're so eager to help out, why don't you help deal with some bandit raiders that have decided to camp out in Springvale, that skeletal town right down the street from Megaton. They're taking a few to many pot shots at my robot and this town's walls, but I'm far to busy to deal with them. So, do you want the job?"

Lanius opened his mouth, but Vulpes quickly broke in and answered, "Yes, we'll take care of the raiders."

Lucas nodded in approval, "Good, a hundred caps for their deaths. Get it done."

Vulpes nodded, and when the sheriff turned his back to them and strode away up the slope Lanius angrily rounded on Vulpes, "I thought we were here for nourishment, not to sell ourselves away."

The former Chief Spy held up their collective cap sack, it was deadly silent as he raised it, "We're out of caps, so we need this money."

"We're out of caps? Why didn't you warn me!"

"Remember when we found that cask of wine in an old cellar and we got robbed by bandits after we got drunk?"

Lanius furrowed his brow, "What?"

"Exactly."

Lanius cursed as they walked up the slope toward the large gate, part of him happy to quickly to leave the town behind, "Then what do you suggest we do in all your infinite wisdom, considering we barely have any ammo left and we haven't had any substantial food in four days. One hundred caps won't handle all of that."

"It's a start," Vulpes insisted.

"So in other words, the plan is to basically half ass the whole thing."

"I never said that, I simply lack a working plan at the moment."

"So you don't have a plan now?"

Vulpes scowled with displeasure, "Fine, so I don't have a plan yet, but I will think of something."

The duo passed the looping robot standing guard at the gate. It uttered a western-esque good bye and seemed to tip its imaginary hat to the two of them, which the two completely ignored as they trudged off toward the ruined town of Springvale. Lanius unsheathed his now almost blunt sword and held it in a strong grip, grinning at the familiar weight that filled his palm. Vulpes pulled out his machete and the two began to enter into a more cautious stance as they got closer to the town. Whoops and hungry howls reached their ears, followed by insane laughter and screams of torture. Lanius and Vulpes took cover behind a cluster of rocks and peeked over the edge, catching sight of about a half dozen raiders sitting in a wide circle around a pretty woman, mercilessly beating her with clubs and tire irons. Her screams were high pitched, and even at that distance it made Lanius wince at the sudden damage to his ear drums, "Looks like they captured a prisoner."

"Or it might be an initiation ritual," Vulpes pointed out, "I have seen some fringe raider camps use such trials for initiates." The former Legate didn't need to ask just what raider tribes he was referring to.

"Any ideas?" Lanius asked, still cautiously eyeing the raiders as they continued to beat the helpless girls, "Considering we have no ammo, I would suggest an indirect approach." Their was an authoritative edge to his voice, the voice he got when he was in the middle of directing his troops. It had been over a year since he had gotten so involved in a battle strategy, even if it was against weaker opponents than he was used to.

Vulpes seemed to notice, as he seemed to regard the former Legate with a look of surprise before he recovered and layed out his plan, "Kill them while they're distracted by the girl, her screams should muffle any sound we make. A few quick stabs and they should be dead."

"Wait," Lanius hissed, "Another patrol coming from inside the house to the left. Five of them in all, heavily armed with assault rifles and pistols."

"Of course it couldn't be reasonably simple," Vulpes muttered, "Any other ideas?"

"We need a distraction to draw away the majority," Lanius suggested. He and his comrade quickly glanced at each other, holding gazes for several moments before Lanius scowled and reluctantly held out his fist, "Rock, paper, scissors?"

Vulpes shook his head with exasperation, but nonetheless held out his fist, "Fine, best two out of three."

"No."

The former Chief Spy's angry glare almost made Lanius reconsider, but he still held out his fist adamantly. Vulpes seemed incredibly annoyed, but still went along with the single round. The first match was a tie, but the second resulted with a loss to Lanius. The former Legate narrowed his eyes while his comrade smirked, "Best two of three," He said.

"No," Vulpes replied, still smirking deviously.

"Damnit."

Lanius quickly ducked out of cover and stealthily stalked over to the closest ruined house. The prisoner was still in the middle of her treatment, and her screams covered up whatever sounds his heavier armor made. He hid behind a refrigerator and looked at the hole that was what little of the wall was left, then moved into the next house. He paused swiftly, holding his breath as he caught sight of a raider that had not fully joined the group, instead leaning onto a broken door frame with his assault rifle holstered. He was laughing with the rest of the group, fully focused on the torture in front of him and not on the dangerous soldier behind him. Lanius sheathed his sword and reached down. He grabbed a rock the size of his massive hand, then cautiously stepped forward and lunged, smashing his rock down onto the raider's head, crashing it inward and killing him instantly. The rock shattered with impact, a sound sharp enough to catch the attention of the others. Lanius grabbed the falling corpse, unholstering the assault rifle on the corpse's back and immediately opened fire.

The raiders scrambled in different directions as his wildly fired bullets flattened against the ashpalt. A few of the raiders rallied and returned fire, spraying bullets into the doorframe and into the backwall. Lanius took cover against a chunk of fallen wall, large enough to barely cover him while squatting down fully. Bullets pinged against his slightly revealed shoulder pauldron, deflecting off and leaving only a minute mark. The incoming fire lessened, and Lanius raised his eyes slightly to scan the battlefield, noting a trio poking out behind a ruined car and the others spread around in the other house directly across the street. A female raider jumped out and sprayed her pistol at his cover, but fell under his practiced return fire, taking four bullets to the chest. As she collapsed, the other raiders barked orders and curses to each others, and he could see flickers of movement as they repositioned themselves. Lanius fired his rifle at the ruins, not able to tell if he succeeded in hitting anything since bullets pinged against his chest armor before he could check.

The former General was about to move, when a massive explosion suddenly rocked his senses. Their was a barrage of screams of pain and death, and Lanius looked up to see that the entire house that had been used as the raider's base had collapsed entirely under the force of the unknown explosion, blowing out clouds of dust that obscured the whole street.

_Vulpes. . . somehow. . . _

Lanius smirked and moved across the street as the remaining raiders hurried to reorganize, looking to flank them. When he entered the house, he saw that their were several chunks of meat that littered the floor, accompanied by pools of blood and mutilated limbs. The former Legate ignored the slaughter and instead took cover behind a bit of rubble as the dust cleared. What he saw was three raiders slumped against their ruined car, their heads blasted open with bullets. Vulpes was in the middle of the street, holding down a raider with his foot with a ten millimeter pistol pointed at the savage's head. The raider howled in defiance as he struggled to release himself, but was silenced by a single bullet to the head. Lanius stood from his cover and strode out to the street toward his companion, who regarded him with a blank look.

"That was. . . fun," Vulpes admitted.

Lanius' gaze sweeped out across the destruction, "I agree."

"We should loot the bodies," Vulpes said, "Find anything worth selling."

Lanius nodded and took a step forward, and immediately almost cried out in surprise. His limbs were aching with fatigue and his muscles strained with exertion. His adrenaline had run off, leaving only an aftermath of exhaustion. His breath was coming out in short gasps, and his chest was heaving with creeping tentacles of energy loss. Sweat blurred his vision and drenched his skin, making him feel as if he were a recently used mop. He took a tentative step forward, and almost buckled as his weary bones stumbled and gave out. He stumbled forward, almost crashing directly to the ground, eyes wide with shock. He fell instinctively to one knee, lowering his head to stare bashedly as the ruined street. Vulpes placed his hand on his hulking shoulder, his voice tinged with worry, "Lanius, are you alright?"

Damnit, he had been trying to put this off for a while, but it was to late. Ever since that near death moment on the cliff. . .

"I am fine," He forced out through his gnashing teeth, "Just tired."

"You're a horrible liar," Vulpes refuted, "Whatever happened to you being a conduit of truth?"

"Shut up," He bit back, "I'm just tired."

He forced himself back up to his feet and struggled to keep from swaying as black spots flecked his vision. Vulpes cursed quietly and stayed him with his hand, "The years haven't been kind to you old man."

"Be quiet," Lanius grated out, "I'm not that old yet."

"You're almost forty," Vulpes said, "Its almost unheard of in the wasteland, these years of combat and war have weighed on you."

Lanius straightened and glared at Vulpes, "You are foolish," He growled imposingly, "I am not succumbing to age, nor will I ever until death itself comes for me."

"By Mars, you always were to stubborn for your own good," The former Chief Spy retorted, but he suddenly turned away from him and stalked over to the bodies, "I am not in the mood to deal with your denials. When you are ready to start telling the truth to yourself and me, then seek me out later."

000

_Back aching. . . knees shaking with soreness. . . cricks in my neck. . . shoulders slumped. . . _

Lanius crashed his fist down onto the counter of Jenny Stahl's outdoor restaurant, closing his hurting eyes and clenching his shaking fist. Jenny, a pretty woman dressed in a yellow jumpsuit and with orange hair, glared at him, lips morphing into a dissatisfied frown and her eyes flaring. The two of them stared heatedly at each other heatedly for several moments, before Jenny snapped at him, "Are you going to actually buy something?"

"Am I not allowed to sit down, woman! Lanius growled back, wincing at just how old and grumpy he sounded, "I don't see you killing bandits out there."

Jenny jabbed her finger forcefully at him, "If you're old ass isn't going to buy anything, then get out."

Lanius stood abruptly, knocking away his stool, and crossed his arms angrily, "Fine," He snarled, "When your buisness gets burnt down, feel free to call."

He was vaguely aware of her flipping him off as he stalked away up to Moriarty's Saloon, where Vulpes was no doubt waiting for jobs from the township. Their two weeks in Megaton had been almost unbearable for Lanius, punctuated with apparent sores and wounds. They had painted themselves as mercenaries who were willing to do any job, and that reputation had been proven by their quick elimination of the bandit group in Springvale. After that, the jobs had come running into them without pause. Most of them had been simple elimination missions, killing the occasional raider gangs that strayed a little to close to Megaton. Others had been ruthless hunt and kill missions delivered to them by the other town power in Megaton, Moriarty. Whether it was cheating customers or backstabbing companions, they had killed all of them and recieved large rewards for their work.

Lanius had even managed to snag himself some new strips of cloth to cover his face from the town doctor, who Lanius was immediately tempted to stab the man as soon as he had opened his mouth. His armor had been repaired and reinforced, with the old and dull pieces replaced with new armor. They had managed to set themselves up for quite a long while, with enough caps to buy themselves fresh supplies of food and water for months. Life should have been good, but even though they had managed to scratch out a decent lifestyle, Lanius couldn't help but feel incredibly displeased. While Lanius and Vulpes had managed to improve their lifestyle, their partnership had degenerated over the course of the last two weeks.

The barrier of tension that had seemed to recede had suddenly pounced and reformed between them, creating a deathly silence that both of them were hesitant to break. Conversations had become short and concise, usually holding a rather formal and couth tone to it, unlike the banter of the past. It was like the two of them had just met instead of having known each other for more than half a decade, and Lanius was at a loss for one of the first times in his life. His time as a General and a warrior had taught him that a quick mind and even quicker reflexes were necessary for any battle strategy. He knew, for the most part, how Vulpes tended to act and think, what made him tick. Lanius knew the battlefield well enough, but he didn't know how to properly approach it. Events in Vulpes' life had rocked his emotional foundation like an earthquake, and any emotional feelings he may have retained had been drained away by the betrayal of the courier. Lanius found the former Chief Spy to be complex in a way that confounded even his analytical mind, and the former Legate was usually hard pressed to understand Vulpes' constantly thinking mind.

Lanius didn't want to admit to himself that he was conflicted over the matter of how to handle the situation. He knew the one solution that would most likely reap the most beneficial results was to admit to the problem that plagued him like Vulpes had forcibly suggested he do two weeks ago, but he knew that such a thing would be difficult for both his ego and stubborn nature to accept. The only other option was to allow the tension between them and hope it somehow blew away with time, but that only made him feel helpless and weak. It also didn't bode well for their partnership that had lasted for over a year, a partnership that Lanius was not ready to give up in the slightest.

He would never admit it to a living soul, but Lanius had come to rely on Vulpes as a constant fountain of logic to balance his more emotional driven decisions. He counted on Vulpes to act as that pale of cool water to dull his own fiery inner nature, a constant reminder to be more thoughtful and cautious. Perhaps that made him weak in the eyes of others, but Lanius had long since stopped caring for the opinions of others, save occasionally for Vulpes'.

The former Legate paused at the door to Moriarty's Saloon, hesitating as his mind rapidly worked its way to a fitting conclusion. Then, slowly, he sighed in resignation and pushed the door open and walked in, eyes sweeping over the greasy saloon to find his comrade. He found him seated in his usual chair, at a two man table farthest from the reaches of society as physically possible. He stood out either way though, with his rigid posture and untouched, and usually pointless, glass of whiskey in front of him. He stood a ways apart from the typical slouch of common wastelanders, and his armor sure wasn't doing him any favors as well. Most citizens ignored him however, save for a few who's experienced eyes were focused on the mercenary's large armaments.

His arrival prompted many to look his way, but they quickly went back to their conversation as they quickly identified him as relatively friendly. Vulpes' eyes, however, stayed in their fixed position, never so much as glancing at him. Lanius snorted slightly under his breath and strode purposefully to the table, seating himself without a greeting. They sat like that for several moments in total silence. The former Frumentarii's focus shifted from the wall to him, and his jaw twitched impatiently as Lanius gazed at him bluntly, not speaking. "Yes?" Vulpes prompted impatiently.

Lanius seemed to snap out of his stupor and replied, "You said you wanted me discuss my issues, so," He spread his hands, "Here I am."

"You're actually doing what I asked for once?" Vulpes replied sarcastically, "You'll excuse me if I don't believe you."

"Regardless, I'm here to talk. So start."

"You're old," Vulpes stated flatly.

"Yes, thank you," Lanius growled, his voice tinged with annoyance, "Anything else?"

"And getting older," Vulpes finished, "And this makes me worry about your combat fitness."

"I assure you Vulpes, while I appreciate your concern, I am still more than capable of fighting some weak raiders."

"Their's always the chance they could score a lucky shot. I do not doubt your combat capabilities, but I still hold some concern."

"I'm not that old," Lanius growled angrily.

"Regardless," Vulpes argued, "I want you to stay back on the next few missions."

"What?" Lanius hissed loudly, drawing the gazes of the patrons around him. The former Legate glared threateningly at them and they quickly turned away, then Lanius just as quickly rounded on his comrade, "You must be insane if you think I'll stay back while you go running along without back up all because I'm getting older."

"Please stay calm, Lanius," Vulpes appeased", "You know I only do this because I worry about your health. Your status as Legate kept you from fighting to hard in your battles, but now that you are participating in all these missions, I cannot justify ruining your health any further."

"I am more than capable of taking care of myself," Lanius snapped.

"I need backup," Vulpes insisted, "And if your crippled or dead, then I will never have it. And I don't trust anyone to to watch my back other than you."

"And what if you die before I do, then where does that leave me?"

"It's only a few missions, Lanius. And they're not even high profile missions, only simple tracking missions for Moriarty."

"I don't trust it, almost nothing is ever simple when Moriarty is involved, I will not accept it," Lanius retorted stubbornly.

They glared at each other for several moments, the tension growing quickly between them as they both held their ground and refused to back down. Lanius clenched his fists and ground his teeth together, resisting the urge to encite a fight. He knew he was walking on thin ice, that if he did the wrong thing then something bad was going to happen, even if he tried to defuse the situation. Vulpes was still leaning back in his chair, his icy cold eyes boring a hole into his chest, narrowed and stubborn. Lanius blew out a small breath and closed his eyes for a moment, allowing some of the tension and anger to drain from his body. Forcefully, he unclenched his hands and stared evenly at his companion, forcing his voice to stay calm and reasonable, "You know I cannot consciously allow you to battle our enemies while I am forced to 'relax' at home."

"I know," Vulpes replied, his voice simmering with restrained frustration, "All I'm asking for is a single mission alone, while you recieve some rest."

"It goes against everything I've been taught for the last few decades of my life," Lanius muttered, sounding more tired than he had ever been as he reflected on better days. He closed his eyes and remembered that first day when he and Vulpes had first begun their wanderings. Doubt and anger brimming to the surface every minute as they refleced on the unfairness of life, "I've never known relaxation, not since I was a little boy in my tribe."

"Then maybe it's time you learned."

The former Legate opened his eyes, but only saw himself on his small couch twenty years ago. He looked around his former housings, recognizing everything even after twenty years, and looked down. He was dressed in the raiments of his tribe, leather and fur armor combined to form a surprisingly effective armor. It was marked with the wounds of dozens of battles, slash marks and bullet holes, a reflection of his skin. Lightly he reached up touched his face, noting the distinct lack of loose skin and crude scars. The tent door opened and his wife, with her illustrious red hair and her burning black eyes, walked in with a sway to her walk and a twinkle in her eye.

Lanius shifted uncomfortably at the sight of her, remembering her as the strangled corpse he had left in the slave pens years ago. She smiled at him and tilted her head playfully, black hair shifting like waves as she seated herself next to him and wrapped her thin arms around his waist. He didn't return the gesture, only narrowing his eyes as her sultry lips pressed against his exposed neck. His breath hitched as she suddenly bit down on his flesh, a gesture that only she could get away with safely, and she knew it. She giggled and bit down again, hard enough to draw blood, but her jubilations were cut off as he reached up and pulled her hair hard, rearing her head back away from his neck. She glared sharply at him, but then smiled and laughed, unafraid. She slowly pulled his hand from her hair and nuzzled his neck with her face, purring affectionately while he simply rumbled in resignation.

_Relax," She murmurred against him. _

Lanius opened his eyes, and felt all the tension drain away from him, replaced by a lucid sense of calm. He sighed and almost felt a smile grace his lips, "I cede your point, Vulpes," His companion jumped up, seeming shocked as his words registered in his mind.

"You. . . agree?" Vulpes responded blankly, "You'll stay?"

"Yes," Lanius affirmed, "For one mission, mind you, but. . . I will stay."

"Oh, er, okay," The former Chief Spy replied, "Well, good then."

"You seem surprised," Lanius noted. Vulpes gave him a flat look, and the former Legate shrugged, almost playfully, "Fair enough."

Vulpes sighed, but instead of irritation, it was tinged with light relief and amusement. Lanius couldn't help but feel a flicker of happiness in his heart as he heard the sound. "I should start on my mission," the former Frumentarii said, sounding uncomfortable as he said 'I' instead of 'we', "Before Moriarty's lead dries up."

Lanius nodded, "Don't get yourself killed."

"I am more than capable of taking care of myself," Vulpes snapped, with a hint of a smirk on his face, "You're not speaking to a child."

"Says the Frumentarii who bases all his arguments on my age."

"it's not my fault your an old crone."

Lanius rolled his eyes, "You're far to old fashioned, I don't think anyone even knows what the word crone means."

"Bah! I'm leaving before I get even more distracted by your petulant argumuments," Vulpes walked toward the door, but looked over his shoulder before he left the table, "And please try to relax for the next few hours, and don't get into another fist fight with Jericho!"

Lanius crossed his arms and muttered under his breath, "Old crone had it coming."

Before the door closed, Lanius swore he heard Vulpes chuckle genuinely as the door slammed shut.


	4. Chapter 4

**Son **

Lanius' aged limbs were close to giving out on him as Vulpes seemed to become heavier and heavier in his hands. It was times like this that he sorely cursed his age. Vulpes seemed to dip in and out of consciousness with every tug, his lips moving, but only generating unintelligible mumbles or moans of pain. His entire body had been torn to pieces, with bullet holes covering his entire body.

Blood left a long trail after them, but no one would be following them, as Lanius had been thorough to kill every single bandit in the base before escaping with Vulpes in his arms. Lanius hissed in pain as his vision turned fuzzy, and finally his arms gave out. Lanius stumbled and fell to one knee, black spots forming in his eyes. Heaving in breath, he stumbled forward and snagged Vulpes' shoulder, pulling him behind a rock cluster. He laid the former Chief Spy against the bumpy rocks and collapsed next to him.

Adrenaline and rage began to drain out of his system as the pain and fatigue set in to consume him. Lanius gulped in breath greedily and fumbled with his belt, pulling out a stimpack to inject into another one of Vulpes' bullet wounds. It seemed like a futile effort, as more wounds opened in its place and even more blood and pus spurted out.

Lanius shouted in rage and frustration, but the furnace of his emotion was dry, and the energy that he demanded would not come to him. He leaned over and hissed into Vulpes' ear, "Stay with me, Vulpes, stay with me."

Vulpes groaned and his head leered forward, his entire body close to collapsing entirely. Lanius lunged and wrapped his massive arms around the former Chief Spy to haul him back, "Lanius," Vulpes moaned, his eyes open, but wide with pain, "I can't see."

Lanius opened his mouth to respond, but the raw pain and sadness in his throat froze his voice. He wrestled Vulpes back against the rock and tried to grab another stimpack from his belt. They had no more. His breath hitched in horror as more of Vulpes' body split open and bled profusely, "Vulpes," He whispered, "Stay with me."

Vulpes leaned to the side against Lanius, mouth open with pain and horror, "I'm not going to . . . make it."

"Fuck that," Lanius snarled, "You're not leaving me alone here."

Vulpes tightened his jaw, forcing out a breath and felt for Lanius' collar. He eventually found it and pulled the former Legate closer, so his chapped lips were right next to his ear, "I have a son."

Vulpes' grip loosened and slipped from Lanius' collar, his entire body collapsing back and slumping against the rocks. His eyes fluttered and closed, his blood covered face relaxing slightly. Lanius stood there stock still for the longest moment, his eyes scanning Vulpes' body for any signs of life. He found none.

Lanius forced his eyes closed and gritted his teeth, forcing back a scream of rage. He failed, and as he lunged forward to shake Vulpes' corpse, his emotional furnace strengthened and his scream shook the mountains.

000

Lanius opened the door and stalked forward into the room, glaring at the woman in the center of it. She cowered before him, a bundle trembling in her arms. The former Legate looked down into the bundle of blankets, and saw a small baby staring back up at him, wholly innocent and untouched by the evil hand of reality.

He looked over to the woman, his black eyes narrowed, "It's his son?"

She nodded fervently, keeping the bundle pressed tighter to her breasts, "Don't take him," She whimpered.

"I don't want him," Lanius replied bitterly, "But make sure he never knows his father, or else."

She nodded again, and Lanius spun on his heel and slammed the door as he stormed out.

000

The door to the old Megaton house opened and a figure slipped in, closing the door behind them. Nero quietly crept forward, but was caught by surprise by a barrel being pressed against his temple. He stiffened, but the barrel was just as quickly withdrawn, and a figure stepped in front of him

The man was old, judging from his sloped back and loose skin, but bandages covered his face and shrouded it from view. One of his eyes was a dull white, while the other was dark, but still spoke of a sharp intelligence. The old man looked him up and down before he holstered his sawed off shotgun, but his eyes never changed, ever sharp and suspicious, "What do you want?" He said flatly.

Nero opened his mouth, but found that his words clogged up in his throat as the old man's ferocious glare tore him apart, "I'm Nero," He eventually said, "Are you Lanius?"

The old man nodded sharply, but bared his teeth darkly, his lips not being well covered by the bandages, "How did you get in?" Nero weakly held up a key for Lanius to look at, and the old man's expression darkened, "Simms, he's gotten gullible in his age."

Before Nero could put the key back in his pocket, Lanius snapped out his arm with greater speed than Nero would have thought possible for him and grabbed the key from his hand, "Hey," He protested, instinctively retracting his hand in shock.

Lanius ignored him and slipped the key into his pocket, "You're Nero, and you never did answer my question. What do you want?"

Nero gulped, his nervousness resurging despite his attempts to block it, "I know you knew my father."

To his credit, the old man's only reaction was a slight hitch of breath, but otherwise he did a good job of not showing his surprise, "And just who was your father?" He asked, his voice not betraying anything.

Nero crossed his arms determinedly, "His name was Vulpes."

Lanius turned and strode over to an ancient looking chair, seating himself while doing a good job of ignoring him, "Never heard of him," He declared.

"You're lying," Nero protested, "People around Megaton told me that you knew him."

"Those people's weak spines will get them killed one day," Lanius interrupted, "they just said that so you would stop bothering them about it."

"All I want is information."

Lanius pointed a finger crossly at him, "Then go find it elsewhere."

"Please," Nero pleaded, "I've been wondering all my life about him, and I need to know."

Lanius opened his mouth, ready to again tell the kid off, but something made him pause. Nero looked exactly like _him. _The same stony features, the same square jaw and buzz cut, and he even had pale skin to boot. It all had memories flooding back to him, and it gave the former Legate pause as a thought buzzed through his head.

_What would he want? _

Lanius frowned at this perplexing question as the boy continued to look at him soulfully, "You look like him," He finally admitted, straining against the burst of emotions scything through him.

Nero perked up, "So you did know him?"

Lanius nodded reluctantly and stood from his chair, walking over to a small door. He opened it and withdrew something, a kind of helmet. He tossed it to Nero who caught it expertly. Immediately, Nero could tell it was made from some kind of animal, as the outside was soft and rather hairy. Two ears perked up at the top of both sides, and when he raised it fully in front of his eyes to inspect it, it reminded him of a fox, "Was this . . . his?" He questioned.

Lanius only grunted in response as he sat back down.

Nero looked at the helmet, and could only imagine what kind of things it could have been through when his father was alive. He didn't know much about his father, only that he had been some kind of famous Bounty Hunter with a partner, a man named Lanius. The only reason he learned that was through Moriarty, who had slipped the information to him one night at his bar. Secretly, and without alerting his mother, he had begun sifting for information about his father, but he never got any of the personal information he needed. Which had led him to Lanius, surely his father's partner would know something about the man, and the helmet confirmed it.

Nero breathed out with excitement and drew up a stool in front of Lanius' chair, eyes shining with curiosity, "Tell me everything."

Lanius sat stonily for a few seconds as more memories trickled in. He opened his mouth, hesitated, but slowly began to speak nonetheless, "Your father's name was Vulpes . . ."

And Nero did learn everything.


End file.
